


The One In Which 11x22 Doesn't Entirely Suck

by louise97



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Rewrite, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 03:53:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6938578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louise97/pseuds/louise97
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As I described it in my Tumblr tags, this is a "very canon compliant, somewhat satisfying, with the promise of further resolution thing compelled in 2K words which y'all from SPN couldn't do in 42 minutes".</p><p>Oh and Destiel goes canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One In Which 11x22 Doesn't Entirely Suck

“After that, it’s Lucifer’s turn. Physical attack, one on one.”

“Wait - what about Cas?” Dean asks.

“Aw, don’t worry. Your pet’s safety is my highest concern.” Lucifer taunts, a hand over his— _Cas’s—_ chest. “Trust me, he’s on board.”

“So now I’m supposed to trust _you_?”

Lucifer gasps, mock-offended. “I don’t remember ever giving you reason not to.”

“Cut the crap.” Dean crosses the distance between them. “I wanna talk to him.”

“Sorry, but we’re kind of on a tight schedule here. I’m afraid your conjugal visit will have to be postpon—”

“Son.” Chuck says, solemn intent behind his voice, and that’s all it takes.

“ _Fine._ ” Lucifer relents. “I'll let the Jiminy Cricket speak.”

“ _Wait._ ” Dean shifts on his feet. “Zap us somewhere else.”

Lucifer rolls his eyes. “Oh, come _on_. You want me to hang up a sheet, too?”

“You really think he’s gonna drop the Manson girl act with Charlie in the room?” Dean spits out, nodding at Chuck. “Just do it.”

In the blink—or roll—of Lucifer's eye, Dean’s standing outside the warehouse.

“Alright, do it.” His eyes squeeze shut, gut churning.

“I think I’m taking a more unorthodox approach this time around.”

Dean’s eyes snap open. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Lucifer almost sounds wary. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I'm sending you on a trip down dream-lane.” Lucifer explains dryly. “Your boy toy here has a history of bypassing possession. Now I can’t risk an incursion when the battle is this nigh, can I?”

Dean squares his shoulders. “But you said he _wanted_ this.”

Before he knows it, Lucifer is up in his face, grabbing the lapels of his jacket. “Doesn’t mean you won’t try and convince him otherwise, because that’s just who you are, Dean. A selfish, clingy, little _brat_.” He snarls, ageless fury burning in his eyes. “Perhaps you should ask Castiel _why_ he said ‘yes’.” Like the flip of a switch, Lucifer simpers, smoothing his jacket back down. Dean just stands there, frozen in place. “Now,” His fingers hover Dean’s temple. “You got five minutes.”

The leaping sound of water is the first thing he hears.

The sky above is overshadowed by a thick, impenetrable layer of grey, yet an orange haze bathes everything beneath it - the autumn trees, the lake, the old pier below his feet. Dean remembers coming here in his sleep for months preceding the breaking of the final seal, remembers fishing at the end of this very same pier, and most of all, he remembers the steady presence behind his back, keeping this one place, at last, _safe_.

It never felt this real, though.

The wood never creaked beneath his feet. The breeze never swept across his face. The leaves never rustled in his ears. His subconscious couldn’t come up with this much vivid detail at the best of its ability, and that’s how he knows this isn’t _his_ dream.

“Dean.” He spins around, heart sinking at the sight that greets him. Castiel looks worn out, tired down to his very essence. “What are you doing here?”

“ _Cas_.” Dean breathes, feet jerkily pushing him forward. He stops midway when Castiel flinches. “This is where you’ve been, all this time?”

“No.” Cas replies shortly. “I was at the Men of Letters bunker, before.”

“Why?”

Cas eyes him for a moment, then looks away. “It’s orderly.” He makes a nimble gesture with his head. “Or was, until Crowley and Lucifer's squabble.”

Dean’s stomach drops. “Cas, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know—”

“Dean, there’s no need for apologies. Expelling Lucifer from my vessel was your best strategy at the time. You were simply being objective.”

_“Objective?”_  Dean echoes, incredulous.

Castiel’s brows pull together. “You wanted the Hand of God at your dispo—”

“I wanted my _friend_ , alive!” Dean steps up to him. This time, Castiel doesn't move at all, staring stonily ahead. “Cas, why did you do it? Say ‘yes’?” The question sounds more like a plea. “And don’t tell me you just wanted to help with the Darkness, cuz that’s bull. You once popped _Purgatory_  open not to let the devil out, you sure as hell wouldn’t do it just to beat that riffraff.” Dean’s heart beats wildy in his chest as he waits for an answer, but there’s nothing. Nothing that he didn't already know deep down. Castiel looks away. “Fuck.” He croaks. “'S me. It really is me.” He blurts a hollow laugh, turning around so Cas won’t see the tears pooling in his eyes.

“Dean—” Castiel starts, and the way he says his name cracks something inside Dean. He spins around, grabbing at his trenchcoat with all his might.

“Don’t do this.” He hisses. “I’ll have Chuck cram Lucifer up in a new vessel, hell, I’ll even try the expelling spell again, just— _please_.”

“I want to fight.” Castiel says, sounding like a fucking _soldier_. “This is my role. It’s a small one in the big picture, but I still want to play it.”

“Fuck the big picture, Cas.” Dean growls. “You wanna know what’s a big, great fucking picture? _You_. Safe - with me. We can fix this, whatever _this_ is,” He shakes him a little. “I know I’ve been a sucky friend, that I didn’t always make you feel like I fucking need you, shit, _want_ you, but I can fix it. I can fix all of it.”

Castiel’s emotionless mask falls.

“Where were you when I needed to hear it?” He asks, eyes glassy.

The familiar question brings back so much crap Dean feels dizzy. He remembers whiskey and holy fire, telling Cas they could _fix this_ , remembers Cas shouting back that _it’s not broken_. Maybe it is now.

This time, at least, Dean's willing to give him an honest answer. 

“I dunno, I was being an idiot somewhere.” He says. “But that ain’t happening again, Cas. I swear.”

Cas stares at him for a long moment. “We can’t give up on God’s plan. It’s still the best way to defeat the Darkness, and I want—I _need_ to fight.”

In a daring feat, Dean lets go of Cas’s coat and cups his face, softly thumbing the slope of his cheekbones. “ _Listen_ to me. You can fight, but not like this, not with Lucifer riding your—”

The sudden change of scenery makes Dean nauseous. He shifts on his feet to try and regain his balance, bile rising to his throat when he realizes he’s at the back of the warehouse again.

“Happy?” Lucifer smirks.

“Take me back to him, asshole.”

“You know what? I don’t need this.” Lucifer flicks his wrist, sending Dean flying onto a nearby dumpster. “Now, let’s recap this.” He crouches in front of him, holding out his index finger. “Vodka Aunt pops up,” A second finger goes up, “Red and her coven give her a little tickle.” Third finger. “My bros lend her a bad case of migraine before the smoke squad tosses her around a little bit, and _then_ we bring out the big guns.” His fingers move slowly to point at himself. “Call me nuts, but I sense a glaring lack of Winchester in this plan. What’s more, you keep _trying_ my patience. Talk about _waste of resourses_.” He pops his lips apart, bringing a finger to his chin. “At least Sammy will make himself useful by bearing the Mark of Cain once Dad locks Amara away.” Dean’s eyes widen in surprise. Lucifer chuckles. “I guess you’re truly the only _expendable_ one here, bud. I mean, you did have promise with the link to Amara and all, but well, look how _that_ turned out. Right now you’re much more of a liability than anything else, _so,_ ” Lucifer strikes a punch to the side of Dean’s face, then another. The next three go into his ribs. He can hear them crack.

Then, suddenly, “ _Stop._ ” 

Dean forces himself to open his eyes.

“Cas?” He asks, and just like that, Castiel is tumbling to the floor, twisting and turning in pain. “Cas!” Dean fumbles to get a hold of him until his body goes completely still. A loud, manic laugh escapes his lips. Dean freezes.

“And that was just a taste.” Lucifer says, rolling on his back. “I’ve been good to you, Castiel, don’t make me change our policy over your little monkey. You think Amara’s torture was ouchy? You’ll see what _real_ torment is.”

“No!” Dean shouts, mind racing. “I mean, _yes_!” He grabs the trenchcoat, hurling Lucifer’s body into a sitting position. “Yes. I’m saying _yes_ , you son of a bitch. Archangel vessel meat, huh? Best one in the market.” He snarls. “Now get the _fuck_ out of him.”

The light is hotter and brighter than Dean remembers it in Detroit - back when the devil crawled his way inside Sam. He ducks his head and shuts his eyes tight, hands blindingly touching Cas’s face, yearning for it to be the last shape he feels beneath them.

But he can still feel Cas’s face a minute later. And a minute after that.

He slowly opens his eyes, wondering how long it takes for an Archangel to dig his spurs in.

“Nick Portman from Delaware.” Chuck’s voice startles Dean. He looks to the side, where Lucifer’s old meatsuit is standing right next to Chuck. “Wise choice for a temporary vessel. It will fit you well in battle, son.”

“You know this isn’t strong enough.” Lucifer growls.

“It’s _suitable_.”

“ _God_ —” With a flick of Chuck’s finger, Lucifer goes completely mute, mouth moving but no sound coming out. 

“Kids. Sometimes you have to shoosh them or they’ll drive you bananas.” Chuck quips.

“Dean…” The sound of Cas’s voice has Dean alert in a second, all questions of _how_ and _why_   fading to nothing.

“Hey, buddy, it’s me.” He coos, unable to stop himself from running his hands over Cas’s face, his shoulders, his chest. “‘S okay, I got you. You’re okay.” He grins wide as the familiar squint slides back in place. He’s _back_.

Cas’s own hand is cupping Dean’s face, then, and in a split second his ribs click back together, all the pain dissipating. “Cas, you didn’t have to—”

“Was it true?” Castiel cuts in. “Do you… _want_ me? Not as an asset, but as a friend, as a…” He trails off, eyes flickering to Dean’s mouth, and it’s all Dean can do not to brush their lips together.

“I’d shout the y-word ‘til I’m blue in the face, but on the off-chance Hellboy over there—” He nods toward a simmering, mute Lucifer. “—jumps my bones, I’d rather not.”

Cas’s face grows serious. “But you said it—to save me.”

“And I’d do it again.” Dean replies immediately.

“Castiel.” Chuck calls.

Cas gives Dean a stern look before rising to his feet, the promise of a long rebuke to come, but Dean doesn’t care - maybe he _deserves_ a rebuke, or a hundred. Things between them are far from perfect, but hopefully, they’ll have time to fix them together, and it’s all that matters.

“God.” Castiel regards Chuck stiffly.

Chuck sighs. “The past few hours have helped me put a lot in perspective, and inevitably, many things come down to you. I know you’ve looked for me for a very long time, that you’ve tried to…  _amend_ for my absences, to not only do what’s best for the angels but for humanity. I could’ve stepped in, given you the sign you once asked for, but I didn’t. For that, I am sorry.” His eyes grow soft, lips turning up at the corners. “Lucifer… he _is_ my favorite. But you’ve always been my best.”

The air surrounding them is thick, a tangible tension that makes the world pale in comparison.

“In the words of a  _good friend_ …” Castiel says, glancing at Dean affectionately. He closes the distance between himself and Chuck, coming so near the tips of their noses almost brush. “You can take your little apology and cram it up your ass.” He says through gritted teeth, then struts back inside the warehouse.

Dean follows suit, but stops at the door. He looks back, smirking. “What he said.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find this on [Tumblr](http://whothefuckiscas.tumblr.com/post/144669877618/in-which-i-set-things-right-bc-as-opposed-to-spn).


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